KAIETEUR A
Apprehension also added its weight,
for the remaining provisions were suf
ficient only to last us back to Saveritik,
should we turn back, and no food was
obtainable here. To go forward meant
we must continue westward until sup
plies were found.
But the morrow brought its cheer with
the discovery of a volunteer guide who
knew a way to Roraima shorter by two
days than the route known to geog
raphers.
With fresh courage we crossed the
Cotinga, a river of great beauty, as it
winds southward through the plains on
its way to the Branco, and worked our
way up a wide lateral valley toward
Mount Weitipu, which stands like a senti
nel guarding the approach to Roraima
from the southeast.
RORAIMA IS REACHED
At last, in mid August, I reached
Roraima.
From the camp on Erkui
Creek, on the west flank of Weitipu, we
proceeded to the Arabopo River, an upper
branch belonging to the Orinoco system,
climbed over an intervening plateau,
4,500 feet in altitude, and halted on its
farther border to gaze on the impressive
scene before us. Fifteen hundred feet
below spread a wide, undulating plain
that rolled up to the forested zone .at the
foot of Roraima, only a few miles distant.
The flat-topped mountain, which is nine
miles long and three miles wide, presented
us its southern point and rose like a vast
battlement constructed by titanic nature.
Upon its sheer walls 2,000 feet without a
break, that rise to a height of 8,600 feet,
gleamed silvery threads of waterfalls
that form the beginnings of streams en
tering the ocean at far-distant points.
On the east the waters flow into the
rivers of Guiana, southward they enter
the branches of the Amazon, while on the
southwest they run into the wide-circling
tributaries of the Orinoco system. Here,
on Roraima, these widely diverging
streams have their common origin.
With our end almost attained, we
climbed down the valley and proceeded
toward the village of Kamaiwa-wong,
situated just south of the cleft between
Roraima and Kukenaam, a sister moun
tain which is scarcely less impressive
than the more famous height.
ND RORAIMA
241
Here resided a numerous tribe of
Arecuna natives under the sway of a
powerful chief, whose "mission name"
was Jeremiah. But two trivial incidents
prevented our arrival at the village that
night. Had it been otherwise serious
trouble might have been encountered, al
though not until a subsequent time did I
understand fully the critical nature of
our position.
One circumstance was the hunt of a
huge ant-bear and the delay occasioned
by its killing. The bearers at the head
of the line halted and pointed out the
animal, as it shambled along from hillock
to hillock.
As I crept up, gun in hand, the animal
continued to feed, ignorant of my pres
ence; whereupon I slipped the gun back
into its holster and took out my camera.
Setting it at twenty-five feet, I ap
proached near enough to secure a much
prized photograph before the creature
took alarm and bolted. It was run down
and shot, enabling us to obtain an exact
measurement of its length, which was six
feet and six inches.
This animal (Myrmecophaga jubata)
is extraordinarily interesting, as it feeds
exclusively upon ants. It is covered with
coarse, wiry hair of dull fawn and black,
while its tail bears a heavy bush of longer
growth; so that at rest the animal re
sembles a heap of dead grass. The head
is slender and tapers gradually to a small
end, where the diminutive mouth opens
to allow a long, sticky tongue to be pro
truded.
The creature shambles along, from one
to another of the myriads of ant-nests
scattered over the savanna, tearing open
the earthy galleries with the huge re
curved claws of the forefeet. When the
ants run out they adhere to the snaky
tongue, which darts here and there, col
lecting a mouthful of the small creatures,
which must be eaten in enormous num
bers in order to nourish the great bulk
of the ant-eater.
The second chance factor was a drench
ing downpour that overtook us when a
mile short of Kamaiwa-wong, and so I
decided to camp at once in a patch of
forest on the Kauwa Creek, at the very
foot of the great mountain.
As the memory of that night returns I